Nancy Devine

Happy Enough

Would that have been the team name on my jersey if childhood were a sport? Fear of sleep, of my heart ceasing, of everyone leaving? I had it all--- goodness, I mean --- and now know it. Though some have left, I love to read music and play, imagine melody as rising blue on a wash of red or static green about to thrum.

So I usually forgive the clock-watching girl with short bangs and ringlets for not completely taking note.  She was doing penance sometimes with the arpeggios, each tone a bead on a rosary that sung. It sung.